


Top Dog

by Devilc



Category: The Vampire Diaries
Genre: D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This thing between Tyler and his uncle, it's still got the edge on it, and it's worse than it ever was between Tyler and his dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Expanded and revised from a comment posted at Turnonmyheels' LJ.
> 
> Legalese: The Vampire Diaries is copyright its respective owners. This is just me thinking there's way too much UST between that nephew and his uncle and wondering how it might play out.

  
He and Mason have just finished a run -- they've run every single day since Mason got here, and Tyler doesn't know why that is, he just knows it takes the edge off -- and they're both drenched in sweat and it's not enough this time.

This thing between him and his uncle, it's still got the edge on it, and it's worse than it ever was between Tyler and his dad.

(But Mason's _not_ his dad and that means this thing -- and the edge on it --feels different.)

Tyler really should be heading for his bathroom so he can shower, but they both pause in the foyer, pacing as the edgy feeling builds, circling each other. Tyler can feel it, and he knows Mason can feel it too, but he doesn't know what it is, just knows that there's an elephant in the room with them.

Tyler glances up, locks his eyes with Mason, and like that Mason snarls and pins him up against the wall of the foyer, his left hand clamping like a manacle around both of Tyler's wrists, holding his arms up and over his head, while his right clenches Tyler's ass and they're both humping up against each other like a pair of dogs in heat.

 _This is wrong. The little voice in his head says so._

No, actually, it doesn't. The little voice in his head is hollow. It's the tinny voice of what he's been told to think is wrong, as opposed to the voice of what he knows deep down.

That voice is deep and throaty right now and tells him to push back with everything in him, to not give an inch, because one day, it will be him on top, and Mason needs to know this.

It's strange that it should feel so right, so natural, to do this.

It's strange that he should know somehow that this isn't really about the fact that Mason's also into guys. This isn't a gay thing. Not quite. It's ... there's _something else_ here, but Tyler's not quite sure what. It's just that he knows that this is how it is, that _this is how it's supposed to be_ (and that it just happens to be incest).

Tyler never stops bucking back as hard as he can and through the wash-worn cotton of his jockeys and the silky-thin nylon of his running shorts, he can feel Mason against him, equally hard and hot. Though the mechanics of it are the same, it's not like what he's done with Jeremy, or what he wants to do with Matt.

It dawns on him as Mason half sucks, half chews a hickey on his neck. This isn't sex. It's a show of force.

Like the arm-wrestling the other night.

And Mason's winning.

The anger of it -- being made to knuckle under, the feel of teeth on his neck -- the realization that he's not the Alpha here (not yet) surges through Tyler and straight out his dick.

A second later, Mason stiffens and groans against him, and Tyler can feel _that_ heat and wet soaking through the thin fabric and joining his own mess.

Mason lets go, steps back, panting hard, and --

"Your eyes!" Tyler gasps.

Mason seizes him by the hair, pulls him, spins him, pushes him towards --

"Your eyes, too, boy," he growls.

\-- the mirror hanging on the wall just above that antique table his mother loves so much.

Tyler sees those freaky eyes in his face, blinks, and they're gone. Normal again, just like Mason's. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he can say, "W-what?"

Mason finally lets go of his hair and says, "Take a shower," and turns to go to his room.

"Tell me!" Tyler insists.

There's something only half joking in Mason's voice when he replies, "Your balls have dropped." He scrubs a hand through his own sweat-matted hair, huffs, and continues, "I can't tell you the rest -- can't _show_ you the rest -- until the time is right. Okay?"

 _Well, no, not really._

Mason's mouth twitches in something like a smile, and before Tyler can say anything, he reaches out and grips Tyler's shoulder. "It's ... complicated, but it will be okay. You'll see. Promise. When the time is right."

"And when will that be?"

"Soon." Mason brushes past him.

Tyler's bursting with questions, but there's a finality in the way that Mason just shut the door to his room. Tyler stares daggers at it for several heartbeats, thinks about pounding on it and demanding an answer to what just happened here, but he's got a sticky, slimy, rapidly cooling mess in his shorts that's only getting grosser with each passing second.

"Asshole," he mutters under his breath as he climbs the stairs.


End file.
